


Divine Intervention

by captainraz



Series: Divine Intervention [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Possible Hurt/Comfort, Post-Events of Inquisition, Separation, Torn Apart by Duty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainraz/pseuds/captainraz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra and Trevelyan were brought together by the end of the world. Now, with Cassandra named Divine, they are torn apart by duty. After so long apart, and with court intrigue, Chantry doctrine and assassination attempts standing between them, can they salvage what's left of their relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“You could say no,” said Trevelyan, somehow managing to inject some hope into her voice.

Cassandra gave her a look that was utterly bleak. Trevelyan had seen more cheer on her face while battling a dozen demons. “No, I couldn’t.”

It stung, but deep down Trevelyan knew she was right.

The College of Clerics, in their infinite wisdom, had elected to place Cassandra on the Sunburst Throne. They’d both known it was a possibility ever since it had come to light she was a candidate, but in the struggle to save the world from an evil darkspawn magister they’d hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility that it might actually happen. Now that it had they would have to deal with it, whether they liked it or not.

Cassandra had been called to serve the Chantry, and Trevelyan knew there was no chance whatsoever she would refuse.

“No, you couldn’t,” she said, dragging her hands through her hair. It felt like the entire weight of the world lay on her shoulders. More so than usual. She looked at the woman pacing her quarters like an animal in a cage; Cassandra was agitated and twitchy and the harrowed look was still on her face.

“You wouldn’t be the woman I love if you refused the Sunburst Throne,” Trevelyan said sadly. “In all the time I’ve known you it has been your faith and staunch sense of duty that have been your guiding principles. Now you have an opportunity to use those to shape the world for the better. How could I possibly ask you to say no?”

Trevelyan stood up from the bed where she’d half-collapsed with shock when Cassandra had given her the news, and went to stop the Seeker from wearing a hole in the very nice carpet Josephine had had installed. Cassandra’s hands shook slightly as Trevelyan took hold of them.

“Truly, you will not ask me to refuse?” Cassandra asked, hazel eyes searching the Inquisitor’s face for any sign of deceit.

“I will not,” Trevelyan assured her. “Forgive me, it was a moment of selfishness. I simply do not want to lose you.”

Suddenly Cassandra’s hands were steady, and there was fire in her gaze again. “You will _not_ lose me. Not to the Chantry, nor to anyone.”

“But–”

“Things will be different, I know,” Cassandra said. Now she was looking at Trevelyan with utmost tenderness, gaze soft and warm. “We will not be able to continue as we are. But my becoming Divine will not change my feelings for you.”

“Nor mine for you.”

Trevelyan could feel her heart swelling with emotion and the corners of her eyes prickled to warn of oncoming tears. She was full of love and grief and pride and had no idea how to deal with any of it. For her sake and Cassandra’s she fought to keep the tears at bay; crying would do neither of them any good now. For a long time they did nothing but hold each other quietly, listening to their ragged breathing as they both struggled with their emotions, both wrestled with the truth of the matter.

Cassandra had been named Divine and in order to fill that role she would be required to take full vows, something her position as a Seeker and Right Hand had not asked of her. While many Divines had in the past kept secret lovers after their ascension, none had ever kept a lover openly. Formally, the Divine was required to renounce such earthly pleasures and Trevelyan knew that with Cassandra being as devout as she was she would obey that to the letter.

Cassandra’s coronation as Divine would spell the end of any relationship between them beyond that of friends.

“This is not the end for us, I swear to you. I am not going anywhere, even if the Maker Himself tries to stop be. Believe that.” Cassandra looked utterly convinced of the truth of her words.

Trevelyan sighed. Cassandra was right of course. And she did believe her, Trevelyan believed in Cassandra more than she’d believed in anything her whole life. It didn’t make it any easier to bear. When Trevelyan thought of never being able to hold Cassandra again, never being able to kiss her, or sleep by her side or make love to her until neither of them could move, when she thought of all that her chest hurt. Facing down Corypheus had been easier than this, and the first few days with the Mark on her hand had hurt less.

“You have always been by my side, my strength, ever since the beginning,” said Trevelyan. “I could not have done all that I have without you, how can I keep going without you?”

“We always knew that we might be parted by our duty, perhaps for years at a time.”

“Not like this though.” Trevelyan was getting choked up again, and fought to keep her voice from breaking. She’d commanded armies through the roar of a raging battle, given speeches over the incessant gossip of Orlesian noble without problem and her voice chose _now_ to let her down. “Not like this.”

Cassandra’s hand came up to caress her cheek, her gauntlets missing for once. She wiped a tear away from the Inquisitor’s cheek; Trevelyan hadn’t realised she’d lost the battle to keep them from falling.

“I told you long ago that I believed the Maker had set us on this path for a reason, all we can do is see where it leads us.”

“I wish I had your faith,” whispered Trevelyan. “It would make a lot of things easier to bear.”

Cassandra smiled, but it was weak. “I will have to have faith enough for the both of us.”

“I suppose that’s why they’re making you Divine an not me,” Trevelyan attempted to joke. She managed something like her usual mischievous grin but wasn’t sure Cassandra would buy it. It made her feel a little better to try, and perhaps Cassandra could see that because she played along.

“You blaspheme almost as much as Varric. You would make a _terrible_ Divine.”

“I know. And I don’t think the hat would suit me at all.”

“I am not certain the hat will suit _me_.” Cassandra sighed. “I suppose looking slightly ridiculous will be a small price to pay for the good I will be able to do.”

“Perhaps you should get Vivienne and Josephine to design you ceremonial formal armour.”

“Perhaps,” said Cassandra, looking like she was seriously considering it. Trevelyan wondered what the reaction would be to the Divine striding through the Chantry in full armour; her history was spotty enough that she wasn’t sure if anyone else had ever done so before.

Cassandra continued. “We still some time before I must travel to Val Royeaux for the coronation.” Trevelyan noticed the way Cassandra avoided saying _my_ coronation. “I would make the most of what time we have left.”

“As would I.” There were a great many things Trevelyan would no longer be allowed to do once Cassandra sat on arguably the most important throne in all Thedas, and she intended to get her fill before that happened. “I swear you’re not gonna be able to walk.”

Cassandra chuckled low in her throat, in a way that had always driven Trevelyan to distraction. Using only her words and the force of her smile she managed to persuade the Divine-elect into her bed so she could make a start on memorising every inch of Most Holy’s divine body.

For a while there was nothing but joy and pleasure between them.

Later, when neither of them were capable of moving from the tangle of limbs and bedclothes they found themselves in, the mood turned melancholy once more. Cassandra turned in the Inquisitor’s arms, her eyes dark with concern.

“I think I’m going to need some time, after the coronation,” Trevelyan said when she could no longer bear the weight of the Seeker’s gaze upon her. “It’ll be hard seeing you knowing I can’t be with you like this. I might need us to have some time apart, while I… adjust.”

“Of course.” There was a brief flash of hurt across Cassandra’s face and Trevelyan felt bad for being the cause of it. “Take all the time you need.”

Trevelyan reached out to run the backs of her fingers down the scar on Cassandra’s cheek. “I never thought I would love anyone the way I love you,” she said solemnly. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

Cassandra looked like she was holding back something she wanted to say and Trevelyan could hazard at guess at what those words might be. Offers to let Trevelyan go, for them to go their separate ways officially so that she might have a chance at happiness with someone else. Right now Trevelyan didn’t want to think about that, and she suspected Cassandra knew it. It wouldn’t change how they felt about each other.

Instead of giving voice to the worst of her fears Trevelyan pulled Cassandra in for another kiss. Neither of them had the energy for another round but that didn’t matter; they had to make the most of what they had.

“We still have time,” Trevelyan murmured against Cassandra’s lips.

“Yes, we do.”


	2. Chapter 1

_Three Years Later_

“You cannot put it off indefinitely, Inquisitor,” said Josephine, one hand holding her clipboard and the other on her hip.

Trevelyan grunted and sank lower in her chair. “Of course I can,” she said, trying to ignore how much her ambassador looked like a mother scolding a naughty child.

Josephine sighed irritably. “I am well aware of how you feel about the matter but you cannot simply _avoid_ every event you are invited to in Val Royeaux. People are beginning to talk.”

Trevelyan hadn’t been to the Orlesian capital since the coronation ceremony of Divine Victoria. She knew it reflected badly on the Inquisition but she just… couldn’t. It hurt too much. So she’d spent the last three years making excuses and sending other Inquisition agents in her stead. Apparently her luck had finally run out. She didn’t care that people were beginning to talk, but her ambassador clearly did.

Jospehine’s glare felt like it could strip a person to the bone, at least when you were being subjected to it.

“Can’t you go as my representative?” Trevelyan asked in a whine that was very unbecoming for someone of her rank and influence.

“No,” Josephine said, and Trevelyan knew that was the final word on the matter. “There are rumours of a rift between the Divine and the Inquisitor, despite you being instrumental in the Divine’s election in the first place. I have done what I can to deal with these rumours and stop them from spreading but you _must_ attend this event in person. That is the only way we will convince the court that there is no bad blood between you and Most Holy.” Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose—actually pinched it—and Trevelyan knew the political situation was very bad indeed. “Maker, if they found out about your romantic history…”

Trevelyan squirmed uncomfortably. That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. It was impressive that Josephine had kept it quiet this long, given it had been the worst kept secret in the Inquisition at the time. She was eternally grateful to her ambassador for that.

“If they knew it would certainly lend credence to the idea of a rift between the two of you,” said Josephine, continuing as though there hadn’t been any pause in her words. “Nevertheless, we must show solidarity. Divine Victoria has been our staunchest ally against the forces that would see us disbanded. No, there is no alternative, you _will_ go to Val Royeaux for this summit.”

And that was the end of it. Josephine had spoken. Trevelyan often wondered what people would think if they knew who the real power behind the throne was in the Inquisition.

“Fine,” she said, doing her utmost not to sound like sulking child. “But I can’t promise that I’ll enjoy myself.”

“You’ve been at this long enough to know that enjoyment is entirely besides the point.” Josephine scribbled something down on her clipboard. “I will accept the invitation on your behalf and inform the Chantry you will be attending personally. No doubt they will wish to plan some sort of function to properly welcome you after your long absence.”

Trevelyan slumped in her chair, feeling utterly defeated. She knew full well that by “function” Josephine meant “ball”, which meant wearing formal attire and doing her best to play the Game and not look like she detested every second. And she couldn’t count on her favourite distraction from the ball at Halamshiral because not only was she probably the most important player in the Game now but also the entire reason the Inquisitor had been avoiding the Orlesian capital in the first place. She’d much rather root out a nest of demons or take down a high dragon than attend an Orlesian ball but she’d also rather not deal with an angry Josie.

“Was there anything else that needed my attention today?”

Josephine began rapidly detailing some minor political inconvenience the Inquisitor had been asked to intervene in and Trevelyan groaned, wondering how long it would be before she could escape to the tavern.

***

Leliana found her by the training dummies while she was running through drills with her knives. The Spymaster leaned against one of the spare dummies with her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing a very smug smile.

“I hear you are to make your glorious return to the capital,” she said, her voice lilting with amusement at Trevelyan’s expense.

“Josephine talks too much,” she said, stabbing the straw dummy vindictively in the side of the head.

“It is my job to know these things, is it not?” Leliana asked with a slight curl of her lip before dropping the amusement altogether. “I know why you have been avoiding Val Royeaux, Inquisitor,” she said quietly.

“You and everyone else in the Inquisition,” muttered Trevelyan irritably. She wished she’d gone to the tavern after all when Josephine was done with her. Why did nobody need her to go out and kill something?

“Talk to her Inquisitor. I do not see why you cannot make it work.”

“She’s the _Divine_ , Leliana.” Trevelyan hacked at the dummy in her frustration; if she couldn’t kill something she could at least destroy something and it would be very bad form to murder her Spymaster. Not to mention inconvenient recruiting a replacement.

“You know I have never believed it necessary for clerics to take vows of chastity. If _I_ had been elected Divine it is one of the first things I would have done away with.”

“I wish you had been elected Divine, Leliana. I tried to make it obvious I supported you candidacy but–” she shrugged. Wishing things were different was no good for anyone, Trevelyan knew. And if wishes were horses she’d probably be back in Ostwick chasing some pretty girl with no idea what was happening in the wider world. She’d never have heard the name Corypheus or led an army of faithful or had to fix a hole in the sky.

But then again she never would have met–

“She misses you too.”

Trevelyan felt like she’d been stabbed in the gut. Leliana’s words took her breath away and it took a few moments of struggle before she got her breath back. “You’ve kept in touch?”

“I am fortunate to count Most Holy as a friend,” she replied with a smile, one of her soft, genuine expressions. “You will have to speak with the Divine as part of your official duties, why not find some time to discuss more personal matters? There is much that still needs to be resolved between the two of you.”

“What’s to resolve?” said Trevelyan, entirely rhetorically and returned her attention to her drills.

She attacked the training dummies with a single minded fervour that made it clear the discussion was over. Leliana remained watching the Inquisitor for a while, though she said nothing. Eventually she sighed in disgust and left Trevelyan in peace.

Her friends meant well, she knew, but she’d spent the last three years dealing with this hurt the only way she knew how. She’d asked for time, and she still didn’t know how long she needed. More than she’d had. Trevelyan suspected that she would grow old and grey and still the pain of her lost love would be as raw as on that first day.

If only there was a way of dealing with it in private but no, they were both important public figures in Thedas and all their interactions would be public and highly scrutinized. Including their reunion. Such as it might be.

Trevelyan sheathed her knives, suddenly exhausted. She really needed a drink.

She stomped off towards the tavern. Perhaps Bull still had some maraas-lok stashed away somewhere; she felt the need to kill a few brain cells.


	3. Chapter 2

They threw her a parade.

Of course they threw her a bloody parade. Her little visit was probably the most exciting thing to happen to Val Royeaux in months, and Trevelyan knew for a fact that two dukes had been found dead in bed together just last week. Josephine had told her the news with quite a considerable amount of glee, for some reason. With Josephine it was sometimes better not to ask.

But no, apparently that wasn’t enough for the sodding Orlesian court, they had to go and throw her a parade to _properly_ welcome her to the city. Trevelyan sat astride her horse with a rictus smile on her face, trying to pretend she wasn’t imagining gruesome deaths for every noble she made eye contact with.

By the Maker she loathed the way Orlesians performed politics.

And it was all the worse because she knew full well that at the end of the boulevard Divine Victoria was waiting to greet the Inquisition party. Trevelyan felt like she had a nest full of deepstalkers in her stomach. She’d refused breakfast that morning for fear of not only embarrassing herself in front of half the nobles in southern Thedas but also of looking like a fool in front of the woman she was still unequivocally in love with.

The heralds blew their trumpets to announce the Inquisition’s arrival at the Grand Cathedral; Trevelyan knew she had run out of time. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. It didn’t work.

There she was.

The last three years had been kind to Most Holy. She looked radiant and, despite her own suspicions, very much suited the robes and mitre. But then Trevelyan considered she might be a little biased; she would always be the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her breath hitched and her heart throbbed in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to reach out, to take her in her arms and never let go. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t merely Cassandra Pentaghast, she was Divine Victoria and Trevelyan was the Lady Inquisitor.

_This_ was why she’d stubbornly avoided the capital all these years, because the ache in her heart was in direct opposition to the demands of her duty. She didn’t trust herself to cleave to the latter. Maker if it hurt this much after so long how would she have coped if she’d come to Val Royeaux before?

Trevelyan dismounted her horse, which was immediately taken by an elven servant, and ascended the steps to the Grand Cathedral.

Her palms were sweaty in her gloves, more so than usual, and her heart was pounding like she’d just battled a dozen pride demons. She felt sick and faint. Trevelyan wondered if it was too late to run away.

No, it wasn’t worth it. Josephine would kill her.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” said the Divine formally, stepping forward to greet the party. “Welcome to Val Royeaux.”

Trevelyan shivered. She’d forgotten the effect that voice could have on her. She felt Josephine’s eyes on her back and remembered she was supposed to reply to the welcome. “Your Perfection,” she replied, bowing low so that she might have a moment’s respite from gazing at that beloved face. “It’s an honour to be here.”

“It has been too long,” said the Divine, and Trevelyan could hear the rebuke in the words. She felt her cheeks grow warm and hoped she wasn’t blushing too visibly.

Before the Inquisitor could embarrass herself further, Most Holy moved off to greet the rest of the Inquisition party. The reunions with both Cullen and Josephine were much warmer than the greeting Trevelyan had received. But then, both of them had seen Divine Victoria more recently than her coronation.

As the party was ushered inside the Grand Cathedral and shown to their quarters, Trevelyan could hear Leliana’s words echoing in her ears: _talk to her_. But she had no idea what to say. She remained quiet and her heart hurt.

When she emerged from her assigned rooms later Trevelyan was resplendent in her new formal armour. The armour was light enough that she could move around easily in it but the plate and mail would provide protection against most forms of attack, always a bonus when spending time in the Orlesian court. The sigil of the Inquisition sat on her chest in burnished gold so no one had any doubt who she was and where her allegiance lay. Trevelyan certainly liked it better than the red jacket and blue sash.

Cullen and Josephine quickly fell into step either side of their Inquisitor so that they might present a united front when they entered the ballroom. (Why in the void did the Grand Cathedral even _have_ a ballroom anyway?) Trevelyan also suspected they’d made a mutual decision to outflank her to prevent her from running away. Josephine chattered in her ear, offering last minute instructions on what to do, what not to do and which noble wasn’t talking to whom. Trevelyan tuned her ambassador out in favour of quietly having a panic attack.

By the time she’d gotten herself sorted out they were at the gilded double doors and any chance of running back to Skyhold had passed. The Inquisition entered the ballroom and every eye in the room was on them.

“Now presenting the Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick; liberator of the rebel Mages of Ferelden, Protector of Orlais, veteran of the Battle of the Arbor Wilds, vanquisher of the darkspawn magister Corypheus, Guardian of the Veil, and Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself.”

“I swear they give me more titles every time I come here,” said the Inquisitor to Cullen, who snickered. She just about caught the scandalised look on Josephine’s face as she swept past her.

She bowed low, her eyes on the figure at the end of the room. Divine Victoria was wearing even more elaborate robes than earlier and an expression of distaste. Despite the length of time they’d spent apart, Trevelyan could still read that in her face. She never had enjoyed functions like this; Trevelyan wondered how often they had to call in the plasterers in the Grand Cathedral.

As her entourage were also introduced Trevelyan righted herself and put her Game face on; despite her aversion to it she was actually a rather skilled player, something she credited to having had excellent teachers. She made her way through the room, speaking with this noble or that, enquiring about the health of their children, or asking how the reconstruction efforts were going. The Inquisitor wore a polite smile on her face at all times and pretended she was genuinely interested in what these nobles had to say. She needed these people’s support (and money) in order to make a difference in the world. It was a necessary duty so she would do it, but inside she was screaming.

She should have brought Sera. If ever a party needed a few jars of bees, it was this one.

Just as she was contemplating the merits of unleashing a few earwigs, a familiar face glided into view.

“Madame de Fer,” said Trevelyan, genuinely pleased for the first time that evening.

“Darling,” said Vivienne as the two exchanged air kisses, “how are you? It’s been an age since we last saw one another.”

Trevelyan shrugged. “I’ve been keeping busy but things are good. Last I heard you were back at Montsimmard, are you still there?”

And with that Vivienne was off, detailing her own adventures since she and the Inquisitor had last crossed paths. She had found that as long as she made vague noises of agreement at appropriate times, a “conversation” with Vivienne was useful for taking up a good half an hour of her time. Trevelyan snagged a glass of wine from a passing server and settled in for the duration.

Eventually conversation with the Inquisitor, pleasant as it might be to catch up with a friend, was no longer advantageous for Vivienne so she moved on. It was probably a good job; Josephine was shooting her irritated glances for spending so much time with one person. She might have to set a few new admirers on Cullen just to give the ambassador a distraction. They exchanged air kisses again as they parted, promising to meet up again soon. Vivienne made a vague threat about a “spa day” that didn’t sound at all fun.

Trevelyan moved on, spending some time speaking to Minister Bellise, with whom she had some… history. It was pleasant enough to catch up with her, even if it brought back a few embarrassing memories.

She was avoiding the most important person in the room, something she wouldn’t be able to get away with forever. Worse still, she was being obvious about it. Her circuit of the room had brought her close to where Most Holy was holding court with an increasingly irritated look on her face.

Trevelyan took a deep breath, swallowed her pride and approached.

“Inquisitor,” said the Divine, bowing her head very slightly. “I trust you are enjoying yourself?”

“As much as I ever do at these things,” Trevelyan said with a grin, knowing Most Holy would understand.

The corner of her mouth curled up in a slight smile. She looked as though she were considering something, weighing up two options in her head perhaps, and then said “I was wondering if we might speak in private?”

Trevelyan’s stomach dropped to somewhere between her knees and her mouth was suddenly dry despite the wine she’d had but she knew better than to refuse. “As you wish, Your Perfection.”

The Inquisitor followed the Divine, her back straight, ready to meet her fate.


	4. Chapter 3

They were ushered into a small private garden with a fountain. The sound of moving water would have been soothing if Trevelyan hadn’t been a ball of nerves and uncertainty.

Divine Victoria sighed and removed her mitre, ruffling the dark hair underneath. Trevelyan noticed she’d grown it out a little and it was shaggier, but her braid was still wrapped tightly around the crown of her head. It suited her.

“The robes I do not mind but the hat, it itches,” she grumbled, looking askance at the Inquisitor. There was a small private smile playing about her lips which made Trevelyan’s chest ache. “At least I do not look as foolish as I once feared.”

“As you say, Most Holy.”

The Divine scowled. “I thought you at least would call me Cassandra,” she said and then sighed. “It has been too long. I have missed you.” Her voice was soft and gentle; Trevelyan remembered that tone from the quiet conversations they would have following their lovemaking.

She didn’t realise her fists were tightly balled at her sides until she felt the tension in her shoulders. Slowly, consciously, she let the tension go but try as she might she couldn’t relax entirely. Trevelyan felt defensive, as though she was on the battlefield and expecting an ambush. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

“I’ve been busy,” she said, knowing she sounded as defensive as she felt.

“As have I,” said Victoria, sounding testy. She closed her eyes for a few moments and when she opened them again she seemed calmer. “I did not invite you out here to argue.”

“Why did you wish to speak to me in private?”

“As I said, I missed you.” She swallowed. “It has been three years, Trevelyan.”

“I am aware of how much time has passed, Most Holy,” she said, barely able to get the words out.

Maker why was she so angry? Was she still restful that Cassandra has accepted her nomination for Divine or was she angry at herself? Right now Trevelyan didn’t know, but she seethed with frustration so potent she felt blind. She clenched her fists, trying to get herself under control, not wanting to create a scene. They had come out here to speak in private, but there was only so much privacy to be had for a Divine and an Inquisitor. There would be eyes watching them.

And anyone who witnessed an argument between two such important figures in Thedosian politics would surely look to use it to their advantage. Trevelyan didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“Have I done something to offend you, Inquisitor?”

The rage seeped out of her hearing the sadness and confusion in the Divine’s voice. Maker, she claimed to love this woman and all she was doing was hurting her.

She would have to do better.

“No,” Trevelyan choked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She chuckled bitterly. “Or rather I do, and that’s the problem.”

A look of understanding passed between them. They were both hurting, but three years at the very pinnacle of the Game meant Victoria was better at hiding it than Trevelyan was.

“It has been a while since I’ve visited Orlais,” Trevelyan sad, not caring that she was being obvious about changing the subject. “I hear the Dales are finally starting to recover.”

She walked over to the fountain and sat, letting the sound of the water soothe her frazzled nerves. Three years of separation and she felt as raw as an open wound. Maker she was glad Josephine hadn’t pushed the issue any earlier. Divine Victoria sat down next to her, far enough away that Trevelyan wasn’t able to feel her body heat through the robes. She had learned to be thankful for small mercies.

“We have the Inquisition to thank for much of that. The troops and supplies you’ve sent Orlais have been most useful in speeding the recovery from the civil war.”

The conversation carried on like that for a while. It was pleasant, though hardly required a private garden. Trevelyan was just about managing to keep her head, and though her hands were twitchy she resisted the urge to ball them up at her sides. She also just about managed to resist the urge to reach out and touch the woman in front of her, though that was a much closer run thing.

Eventually the polite pleasantries began to grate, on both of them

The Divine sighed. “Inquisitor, what are we doing?”

Trevelyan stiffened. “You’re the one who invited me out here, Most Holy.” Victoria looked frustrated at Trevelyan’s repeated sidestepping of the issue. More to the point she looked like she was barely keeping her temper in check, which was something that needed to be dealt with quickly. Trevelyan held her hands up in surrender. “I know, you said you’d missed me. I’ve missed you too Cassandra.” She almost choked on the name; for the last three years she’d barely even allowed herself to _think_ it, let alone say it out loud. “I’ve missed you so much I can hardly breathe.”

“Oh,” was the only reply. Cassandra looked stunned.

“Yeah.”

“I had assumed… since you were here…”

The Inquisitor shook her head. “Josephine made me come, said there were rumours of a rift between us. I wasn’t ready. Maker, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” she finished in barely more than a whisper.

Divine Victoria— _Cassandra_ —looked distraught. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I asked for time and you gave it to me. I thought… I thought that one day I might be able to move past it but it’s been three years and I still can’t–” She broke off, blinking tears out of her eyes. Her hands were shaking. “Even being with you now, like this, it’s hard. I want– I want so many things and I can’t have any of them. What I want isn’t appropriate, it isn’t allowed.”

“Trevelyan…” whispered Cassandra, and the Inquisitor could see there were tears in her eyes.

She couldn’t do it any more; her heart was breaking. Having Cassandra so close and yet so far away… She wanted to reach out, hold the other woman to her chest and never let her go, damn the consequences and political fallout. The passage of time had done nothing to dim the physical desire Trevelyan felt. It had cooled for a time, but being here, so close to the woman she loved had brought it roaring back to life. Maker, she burned with it.

Trevelyan stood up, for once itching to get back to the party. She needed a drink, needed to be around people, needed to be _away_. Her instincts shouted at her to run, but her political acumen (beaten into her and hone to a fine point by Josephine) told her that that would create a scandal of unmitigated proportions.

“I know you were hopeful we might be able to salvage… something, that your election might not have to spell the end of everything we had but I– I just can’t. It’s too hard. I can’t bring myself to regret not asking you to decline. This is who you are, and you’ve done so much _good_ these last three years…”

There were sounds that might have been the Divine openly weeping, but Trevelyan wasn’t looking at her any more. She couldn’t.

“I’m so proud of you Cass, of everything you’ve achieved. But being this close to you and not being able to be _with_ you is torture. Please don’t ask me to bear that.”

“I don’t want to cause you pain,” said Cassandra, voice thick with emotion. The sound tore at Trevelyan’s soul. It was going to take a lot of wine to deal with the events of this evening she knew.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” she said, barely able to speak.

Cassandra sobbed and Trevelyan couldn’t bear it any longer. She walked away.


	5. Chapter 4

The next morning Trevelyan awoke with the mother of all hangovers. It felt like a rage demon had taken up residence inside her skull and was putting out sulfurous fumes. Sunlight filtered through the partially drawn curtains and she knew she’d almost certainly overslept. She scrunched her eyes up; the light made her head feel even worse.

At least she’d woken up alone. Josephine would have had a field day trying to explain _that_ to the court.

Someone cleared their throat and pressed something cool and made of glass into Trevelyan’s hand. She opened one eye and squinted; it was a potion bottle, one she recognised from previous occasions when she’d overindulged. Without stopping to think about it she uncorked the bottle and threw the contents down her throat. By the Maker it tasted awful, but it was effective and the next time she opened her eyes the room wasn’t spinning quite so much.

She sat up and glanced around her quarters. Leliana was sitting in a chair by the Inquisitor’s bed as though it was a throne. That was promising. Leliana’s lectures tended to be a little more bearable than either Cullen’s or Josephine’s.

Still, it was something she could do without.

“Don’t,” she said. “Whatever it is you came here to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

“How do you know I was planning on saying anything?”

Trevelyan groaned. Apparently Leliana was in the mood for games this morning. She couldn’t compete with the Spymaster normally and she wasn’t exactly at her best right now.

“Because you look like the cat that’s gotten the mint, that’s why.” She scrunched up her face in confusion. “Or is it milk? I don’t know any more. The point is: whatever you came to say, please save it.”

“I heard you and Divine Victoria had a private conversation last night,” said Leliana, completely ignoring what the Inquisitor had just said.

The sudden urge to punch her Spymaster welled up inside Trevelyan. Only the fact she couldn’t pull herself upright just now prevented her from doing so. Plus the fact she knew she’d be dead before she could even touch Leliana.

“We had words. It didn’t help. I don’t want to talk about it any more.” Trevelyan rolled over onto her back, both so she didn’t have to look directly at Leliana and so she could prepare to drag herself out of bed.

Her mouth tasted _awful_ , and it wasn’t just the potion. What had she been drinking? She glanced back at the Spymaster.

“I assume that is the reason for this,” said Leliana, gesturing vaguely at the Inquisitor, who grunted her agreement. Leliana sighed.

“I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night did I?”

“No, fortunately for the Inquisition most of the more… traditional members of the court had retired by the time you embarked on your little bout of intemperance. Those that were still in attendance seemed to enjoy your company and antics, so no harm done there.” Trevelyan breathed a sigh of relief. “However, your behaviour _has_ intensified the rumours of a rift between yourself and Most Holy.”

“Wonderful,” Trevelyan muttered, covering her face with her hands.

“Indeed. As far as I know, no one in the court is aware of exactly what passed between you and Victoria last night in the garden, but the fact you began drinking heavily on your return has tongues wagging. Josie is doing what she can do deal with the situation.”

Which explained why Leliana had been assigned to the Inquisitorial wake up call. Or perhaps she’d volunteered so she could be annoyingly smug some more. Trevelyan wasn’t sure she wanted to know which was the case.

“Josephine deserves a raise,” she muttered to herself and finally worked up the momentum to get out of bed. Leliana chuckled.

Trevelyan looked down and noticed her distinct lack of clothing for the first time. How had she gotten all that ceremonial armour off while drunk anyway? She shrugged. It wasn’t the first time her Spymaster had seen her buck naked and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Trevelyan really couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed; Leliana probably knew what every person in the Inquisition looked like with no clothes on.

She began hunting for her clothes and Leliana just sat there in her chair with that annoying smile on her face.

“I know it’s a nice view and all, but if you’re going to stay and watch me get dressed could you at least help?” She picked up one of her golden pauldrons. “See if you can find the other one of these.”

In the end Leliana did help and Trevelyan managed to get herself to breakfast wearing a complete set of armour. She also managed to avoid being on the receiving end of a lecture regarding excessive drinking, which was a plus, though Leliana did smile smugly at her the whole time.

The lack of a lecture lasted only until she arrived at breakfast, where Josephine practically grabbed her by the ear and dragged her into a side room. The ambassador was less than impressed with the Inquisitor’s behaviour the previous night and told her as much in no uncertain terms, occasionally lapsing into Antivan as she spoke. (Trevelyan had always assumed Josephine was swearing when she did that, but had never been able to prove it; her Antivan was atrocious.)

Thankfully her raucous behaviour had caused no lasting damage and Josephine moved on to briefing her about her duties that day and indeed, for the next few days. There was a meeting with a group of nobles in the morning regarding… something, lunch with some Comte at noon and in the afternoon the Inquisition was assisting Divine Victoria in the mediation of several disputes that had arisen. There was also something about a speech being given by the Divine at some point, but that wasn’t for a few days yet so she decided to worry about it later.

Trevelyan wasn’t looking forward to that last one, especially not after the previous night.

Only when Josephine had exhausted every permutation of the day’s schedule, including an overview of every possible outcome she’d considered, was the Inquisitor allowed to sit down and eat. As she piled bacon and eggs and fried bread onto her plate she couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift to her duties for that afternoon.

She wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Extended periods of time in the Divine’s presence was something she could do without right now. She didn’t have a lot of choice though. She needed to get back in Josie’s good books.

She could only hope she didn’t do anything too rash or foolish. But then again, maybe that was too much to ask of herself. She tucked into her breakfast feeling the last of the hangover slip away.

Leliana smirked throughout the entire meal.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life is gonna get busy over the weekend so here's the next chapter earlier than planned.

Political machinations in Orlais were either extremely exciting, full of death, deceit and dangerous liaisons, or they were dullness incarnate. This particular summit she had been dragged to had turned out to be the latter, much to Trevelyan’s disgust. The most exciting thing that had happened all week was her conversation with Divine Victoria and her subsequent... indiscretion. She was trying not to think about that though.

All week she’d been forced to stand at the Divine’s side with a smile on her face, pretending her heart didn’t feel like it had been ripped to shreds. There hadn’t been any more private talks between them—which was good because Trevelyan wasn’t sure she’d survive another encounter—and somehow both parties had managed to be civil with each other in public.

Trevelyan suspected that Victoria also had advisers who were aware of the rumours circulating and had convinced Most Holy to present a united front with the Inquisition. It seemed to be working, despite the fact Trevelyan had sent her apologies when the Inquisition representatives had been invited to a private dinner with the Divine. She’d spent the evening in her rooms drinking and though Leliana had appeared the next morning with a bottle of hangover cure she never did find out what got discussed.

She looked herself over in the mirror, checking all her armour was on correctly. Her duty for that afternoon was to accompany the Divine while she made some sort of speech in the Grand Cathedral, in the name of proving once and for all there wasn’t any rift between the two women (even though there kind of was). She wasn’t really sure what it was about but it must have been fairly important because her armour had been freshly buffed and polished in preparation.

From what she could tell she would essentially be there as an honour guard for the Divine while she gave her speech (something Trevelyan knew Cassandra must hate having to do) and that kind of duty was her least favourite. Add in the fact she’d be stood next to the Divine for a few hours and Trevelyan was looking forward to it about as much as she’d looked forward to the final battle with Corypheus.

Her duties ended up being as boring as she’d feared.

All she had to do was stand there looking vaguely interested while the nobility coughed and shifted restlessly through the speech. Divine Victoria wasn’t terrible at public speaking, but there were only so many ways to say the same thing before it got a little dull. The Chantry was pushing through some more reforms that were probably very good and useful for people but Trevelyan had zoned out early on.

Listening to Cassandra talk used to be one of her favourite things to do. She remembered them lying in bed together, reading excerpts from Varric’s romance novels until they got to the love scenes and then they’d act them out instead, adding their own embellishments along the way. Listening to the cadence of Divine Victoria’s speech was uncomfortably reminiscent of those pleasant afternoons and it took every ounce of self control Trevelyan had to keep her eyes front and her face impassive.

A mild undercurrent of arousal wasn’t the usual reaction to listening to the Divine giving a speech, she was sure.

Her eyes travelled the room, automatically keeping watch for danger. The role of honour guard in this case was largely ceremonial, but Trevelyan refused to be complacent when she had a duty to perform. Besides, it gave her something to do other than pretend she was listening.

The flash of sunlight on metal somewhere up on the balcony caught her attention. If she remembered her briefing correctly, no one was supposed to be up there during the speech. It wasn’t uncommon for people to make assassination attempts on the Divine when she was making speeches like this. Security was supposed to be tightened to prevent such things but occasionally people slipped through the bet. It wasn’t unknown for assassins to succeed.

All her instincts were on high alert as she scanned the balcony for the source of the flashing light.

Trevelyan caught movement out the corner of her eye. There was definitely a person up there. The only question was who their target was.

Leliana was sat in the audience and Trevelyan tried to subtly attract her attention. The Spymaster’s brow furrowed as she looked in the Inquisitor’s direction. Trevelyan flicked her gaze back to where she’d seen movement. A tiny nod of Leliana’s head told her the message had been received. No doubt some of Leliana’s best agents would be dispatched to investigate. If the intruder’s intentions were hostile they would be dealt with accordingly.

Trevelyan could only hope someone got there in time.

Another flash of light almost blinded the Inquisitor. _Crossbow_ , she thought. Definitely not friendly.

Her heart beat hard in her chest as she scanned the balcony for an exact location and any clues as to the target. When the shooter came back into view she could clearly see the crossbow in their hands.

It was pointed almost directly at her.

She swallowed. That meant either she was the target, or the Divine was.

Trevelyan glanced sideways; Divine Victoria was still engaged in her speech. If she was the target she’d never see it coming.

More movement on the balcony. The hooded figure loaded the crossbow. Trevelyan could have sworn she heard the click as the bolt slid into position even through the roaring in her ears. Leliana’s agents wouldn’t get there in time.

She didn’t think.

Trevelyan stepped sideways, pushing the Divine out of the way, her eyes never leaving the figure on the balcony. Pain exploded in her chest.

The next thing she knew she was flat on her back on the floor.

People were rushing around, presumably screaming, but Trevelyan couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat. Divine Victoria was crouched next to her, pressing a torn off piece of her robe to her chest.

Breathing hurt.

She looked down and saw the blood pouring through the hole in her breastplate. Oh. That was right, she’d taken a crossbow bolt in the chest.

Trevelyan coughed, which hurt even worse, and she felt something wet on her lips. Blood.

All of a sudden her hearing seemed to come back and she could hear the panicked crowd trying to get out of the room, the shouting of a few people trying to restore order (Trevelyan thought she could here Cullen’s voice rise above the cacophony) but above all else she could hear Cassandra’s voice. Reassuring her, telling her to hang on.

Trevelyan blinked up at her. She looked so pretty.

“Hi,” said the Inquisitor, smiling. It was entirely possible she wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Hold on Inquisitor,” Cassandra said. “We’ve sent for the healers.” She was worried. Trevelyan could tell because she had that specific little crease between her eyebrows. Not the mad one though.

“S’okay,” she said, starting to slur her words a bit. She thought her breathing was getting a bit rattly too. Was her lung filling up with blood?

That was probably bad. It explained why breathing hurt so much though.

“You took that bolt for me,” said Cassandra, sounding like she was trying not to cry. “Why?”

“I got armour, see?” Trevelyan tried to pat at her breastplate but her arms didn’t seem to be working properly. She grunted in frustration, which sent another wave of pain shooting through her chest.

“We need to get your breastplate off so we can slow the bleeding,” said Cassandra. “This will probably hurt.”

“’Kay.”

Cassandra began to fiddle with the buckles on the Inquisitor’s armour. They’d seemed like a good idea when Josephine was working on the design but now it felt like there were far too many of them. Cassandra tried to pry the breastplate off and Trevelyan screamed.

The pain was so bad she nearly passed out. Her breastplate was finally off though, thank the Maker.

Pressure on her chest. She looked down. Cassandra was trying to staunch the bleeding with her hands. Trevelyan’s under shirt was soaked with blood, as were the sleeve’s of the Divine’s robes.

Trevelyan felt cold, and her vision seemed to be going a little grey. She coughed again, which was further agony, and this time there was more blood.

Cassandra wiped her mouth clean with her sleeve. “Don’t you dare die,” she said in a fierce whisper. “Don’t you dare do that for me.”

“Might not have a choice,” she said, now actively fighting to keep conscious.

“Don’t you dare.” Tears were falling from Cassandra’s eyes, and it broke Trevelyan’s heart.

Her limbs felt like they were made of porridge but somehow she managed to raise her right hand to Cassandra’s cheek, stroking it gently as she wiped away the tears. She left a trail of blood on her skin.

“You’re worth dying for.” Her breaths were coming in ragged and wet, and talking hurt.

“Someone help me!” she shouted. “I need a healer. Now!”

Cassandra’s voice was the last thing she heard before she passed out.


	7. Chapter 6

Consciousness returned slowly, and in spurts.

At first Trevelyan wasn’t sure whether she was alive or dead, whether she was dreaming or awake. She’d physically been to the Fade but it was an unpredictable place at best; she couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or whether she’d actually died and she was passing through it on her way to the arms of the Maker.

She didn’t know she’d survived for sure until she heard Divine Victoria’s—Cassandra’s—voice telling her in no uncertain terms that if she died she’d never be forgiven.

For a long time the voices of her friends danced around her, hovering somewhere just outside the haze of pain she found herself in. Trevelyan managed to come to just long enough for someone to force a potion down her and then it was back to darkness and dreaming.

Breathing still hurt. Swallowing hurt. Even her fingernails seemed to hurt.

The only relief was in the sweet embrace of oblivion.

The first time Trevelyan managed to claw her way back to consciousness for any real length of time Cullen was sat at her bedside. His face was wan and the ever present circles under his eyes seemed darker. The poor man always looked like he needed more sleep.

He was reading out loud to her and it took Trevelyan’s pain and potion befuddled mind a while to recognise it as a chapter from _All This Shit is Weird_. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but the cadence of his voice was soothing. And he kept doing impressions of the characters in the book. Maker, if Leliana ever heard his impression of her she would kill him.

After a while he placed the book on his lap and rubbed at his eyes. “You have to pull through, Inquisitor,” he said clearly enough that she understood him. “Your story isn’t supposed to end like this, you hear me? It can’t end like this.”

Trevelyan tried to reply, to tell him that she was fighting but the words wouldn’t come. She slipped back into unconsciousness.

The next time she dragged herself back from the depths of darkness it was Leliana by her side. Instead of sitting in the chair she was kneeling at Trevelyan’s bedside, hands clasped in prayer.

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

The words of the Chant of Light were comforting, familiar. It soothed Trevelyan’s soul. She made a noise of contentment.

Someone came over, a healer perhaps, and Trevelyan felt someone touch her chest. Checking the bandages? Then there was a potion bottle at her lips and she was being gently encouraged to drink.

As the sedative settled into her system she felt her limbs relax and her breathing grow easier. The pain receded even as her mind grew fuzzy again.

She heard the door open and close and saw Josephine enter the room. The ambassador stood by Leliana, her hand on the Spymaster’s shoulder. Both of then looked worn to the bone with worry.

“How is she?” Josephine asked in a low voice.

“Improving,” Leliana replied. “It is still touch and go but the healers are doing all they can.”

“You should not blame yourself Leliana.”

“I should have been faster. If I had gotten word to my agents sooner–”

Trevelyan wanted to shout out, to tell Leliana it wasn’t her fault but the potion had hold of her. Unconsciousness was beckoning and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

Thankfully Josephine stepped in.

“Even if you’d known what was going on sooner Trevelyan might still have been injured. You know as well as I do that she is unpredictable, and that she would gladly give her life to save Divine Victoria’s.”

Leliana sighed and said something else, but Trevelyan couldn’t make out the words. She returned to her dreams.

People kept waking her up to give her more potions and change her bandages, but otherwise she was left alone. Fortunately neither of these things required much input from her so Trevelyan could quickly turn over and pass out again. Days passed in this manner. Sometimes there were people at her bedside when she came to, sometimes she was alone. The potions she was been given kept her mind fuzzy, unable to wake properly.

When she finally woke and found her mind clear, Cassandra was asleep in the chair at her bedside. Trevelyan’s heart contracted at the sight but for the the first time in a long time it wasn’t the worst of her hurts.

The wound in her chest ached, but breathing was easier now. She wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been since she’d stepped in front of that crossbow bolt, but it had been a while. Her injury was at least partially healed, she could tell that much. Sometimes an over-familiarity with being wounded came in useful.

She was, however, starting to feel restless, confined to her sick bed for too long. And she needed some fresh air. Trevelyan glanced over at the sleeping Divine; she would no doubt frown on the Inquisitor getting out of bed, but while she remained asleep she didn’t have to worry about that.

The trouble with sleeping dragons, Trevelyan knew, was that they had a nasty habit of waking up and then you were in trouble. She decided that the risk of pissing off this particular dragon was worth it.

Slowly she pulled herself upright. The wound in her chest pulled a little, and she hissed in displeasure, but she’d had worse. The effort required to move that short distance had taxed her, and a light sheen of sweat had broken out on her skin. Trevelyan desperately needed to get out of this bed though, even if she had to put up with a small amount of pain to do it.

Getting to her feet took longer. She could feel the way her muscles had begun to waste while she lay in bed; it was going to take her months to properly recover from this one, even with the aid of magical healing.

No wonder her advisers had been worried.

Trevelyan glance back at Cassandra. She was still sleeping soundly.

There were a set of Orlesian doors on the other side of the room that led onto a balcony. That was where she wanted to be. It took an embarrassing amount of time for her to make her way to the doors, and she had to grab onto everything in reach on her way there. The effort required was exhausting and left her legs shaking. Sweat poured from her but she grit her teeth and kept going.

She almost gasped with pleasure at her first breath of fresh air. It felt good to be outside after so long lying idle. Trevelyan leaned against the balcony railing with a grunt; she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. She was stuck out here until her head stopped spinning at least. It took a while. Trevelyan was impressed that she didn’t throw up.

“You should have woken me,” said a voice behind her. Trevelyan flinched and then regretted it at the sharp pain in her ribs. “I would have helped you if you wanted some fresh air.”

Cassandra came and stood at her side. Her face was much more open than the last time they spoke.

“I wanted to do it myself.”

“Stubborn,” said Cassandra, shaking her head, but there was a smile on her face.

“You know me,” said Trevelyan, trying for her usual jocular tone. She wasn’t sure she was entirely successful.

“Yes, yes I do,” she said softly. “Can we talk, or are you not up to it?”

This words felt a lot less ominous than they had before. Getting shot was something that tended to give one a sense of perspective.

Trevelyan sighed. “We can talk.”


	8. Chapter 7

“How are you feeling?” Cassandra asked tentatively.

“Like I’ve been run over by a herd of druffalo,” Trevelyan replied with a laugh. It was true; the only reason she was still upright was because she was hanging on to the railing.

“You did take a crossbow bolt to the chest,” she pointed out somewhat acerbically. “Such a wound would be enough to kill most people but once again you display an uncanny ability to survive almost anything.”

Trevelyan shrugged. “I don’t think this was worse than anything Corypheus threw at me. Stung less than the avalanche too.”

“I am glad you survived,” said Cassandra quietly. Her words sent a shiver down the Inquisitor’s spine.

“How long has it been anyway?”

“Over a week. The healers have all been arguing incessantly about the best way to treat your wound. In the end they decided it was best to keep you sedated for as long as possible.” Cassandra scowled. “Probably because someone told them you’d do something like this as soon as you were awake long enough.” She gestured vaguely at Trevelyan, clearly disgusted that she was out of bed.

Trevelyan grinned at her. “I hate being cooped up. Used to drive my nursemaids up the wall when I was a kid.”

“I can imagine,” was the wry reply, followed by a sigh. “Inquisitor…”

Reality came crashing back down. For a moment Trevelyan had allowed herself to forget about titles, forget that she was the Inquisitor and Cassandra was the Divine. For a moment she’d slipped back into their old banter, how things used to be between them.

She thought she preferred the illusion to reality.

“Don’t. Can we just, not, with the titles for a while, please?”

“As you wish.” Camera’s reply was stiff, almost formal. That didn’t bode well.

Another sigh rattled loose from Trevelyan. Some days she felt like a never ending fountain of the damn things.

“I know what you’re going to say. You want to know why I stepped in front of that crossbow bolt, why I pushed you out of the way and why I almost died for you.” Her chest throbbed, as if to remind Trevelyan of what had happened. Of just how badly she’d been hurt. “You know the answer to that Cassandra,” she said quietly.

“It would be reassuring to hear you say it,” said the Divine with a huff of frustration.

Trevelyan shook her head. “Some things shouldn’t be said out loud. Josie is having enough fun dealing with the fallout from my little stunt as it is. I refuse to add further fuel to the fire.”

Cassandra gave her a puzzled look. “How did you…?”

“I’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. Sometimes I could hear her talking. Apparently it’s gotten out that we were romantically involved before you became Divine. I want to know who talked after all this time.” Trevelyan chuckled ruefully, ignoring the way it made her chest ache and her breath short. “Of course it’s possible no one _did_ talk. A romance isn’t an outlandish idea given what I did and everything we’ve been through together. It wouldn’t be the first time the Orlesian nobility had been right entirely by accident.”

“I suppose.” Cassandra seemed deeply sceptical about something but Trevelyan wasn’t about to ask. She didn’t have the energy for prying. She barely had the energy to remain standing.

Suddenly the last thing she wanted to talk about was get relationship with the woman stood next to her.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Cassandra. I know you… care.” Trevelyan couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word she meant. After all this time there were still some hurts she wasn’t ready to take out and examine.

“I more than care,” Cassandra growled, her brows furrowed.

“I know,” said Trevelyan softly, trying to soothe the storm she could sense brewing in the Divine. “What I did, it doesn’t change things.”

“Does it not?” She sounded incredulous.

“No,” said Trevelyan, throwing a little bit of her Inquisitorial voice in there. “I know it’s all very romantic, me throwing myself in harm’s way for someone I– for you. Anyway, it wasn’t meant to be a romantic gesture. It was instinct. You were in danger and I just acted. I didn’t think.”

Cassandra blew out a frustrated breath. “ _That_ much is obvious. It isn’t as though I wasn’t wearing chainmail under my robes. This isn’t the first assassination attempt I’ve endured since becoming Divine and it most certainly won’t be the last.”

Trevelyan’s heart lurched at that, the primal instinct to protect Cassandra at all costs rising up within her, much as it had the day of the speech. She put the thought aside; she knew that the risk of assassination came with the job but thinking about it wasn’t helpful right now.

“I don’t know if you noticed but that bolt pierced plate, mail _and_ leather. Whatever you had on wouldn’t have stood a chance. I don’t know what kind of crossbow the guy was using but it certainly packed a punch. Maybe we should send it to Varric, he might be able to design some improvements for Bianca.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise in her throat, whether at the mention of her favourite dwarf or because Trevelyan was being flippant about nearly having died, she didn’t know. Once she would have considered it a victory to draw that sound of her—she remembered making a game of irritating the Seeker back when the Inquisition was just getting off the ground—but now it just made her ache.

“Look,” said Trevelyan, trying to keep her temper under control. Starting another shouting match would cost energy she simply didn’t have. “I saved your life and you’re welcome. But you’ve saved mine a hundred times over. If anything I still owe you. Don’t try to turn this into something it’s not.”

“You nearly died!” cried Cassandra. “I held you in my arms as you lay there with an arrow in your chest, as you struggled to breathe. There was blood everywhere, your blood. On my hands, on my robes on the floor…” Her voice trembled with emotion, as did her hands. “I never want to go through that again. None of this–” she gestured to her robes “–means anything if I lose you.”

Trevelyan made a noise of distress. “Don’t say that, you done so much good–”

“That didn’t matter to me when you were bleeding to death on the floor of the Grand Cathedral.” There were tears in Cassandra’s eyes and Trevelyan could hear the sob stuck in her throat. “I am a servant of the Maker, the highest ranked cleric in the Chantry and that day I prayed to Him not to take you from me. I would have done anything to save you.”

Trevelyan closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding, which wasn’t helping with the faint feeling in her stomach. She thought she might be sick. Perhaps getting out of bed so soon hadn’t been one of her better ideas. “Cassandra, please don’t…” she pleaded.

Trevelyan didn’t think she could take much more of this. Cassandra didn’t cry. She had on occasion witnessed her weeping but that was nothing compared to what she was holding back now. Her entire body shook with the effort of keeping the tears at bay, and every word she spoke was thick, thicker still for her accent.

“I lo–”

“Please don’t.” Trevelyan cut her off; she couldn’t bear to hear the words. “I know. I do too. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to _me_ ,” said Cassandra, her eyes blazing.

“Cassandra…” Trevelyan was battling tears of her own by this point. “Listen to me, how we feel about each other, it doesn’t change anything. We are who we are. You are the Divine, as much as I wish they hadn’t chosen you, but you are. You took your vows, the Chantry has rules and it means we can’t be together. It hurts but that’s the way it is. These are the choices we have made and we have to live with them.”

There was a stubborn set to Cassandra’s jaw that Trevelyan recognised but was too drained to think about dealing with. Right now she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for a thousand years.

There was one more thing she had to say though.

“I didn’t step in front of that crossbow bolt for Divine Victoria; I did it for Cassandra Pentaghast, understand?”

Cassandra nodded. She’d refused to meet the Inquisitor’s eyes for the last few minutes but that she had some semblance of control again she looked up from her hands. She frowned.

“You’re bleeding,” she said.

Trevelyan put her hand to her chest and sure enough her fingers came away red. “Oh,” she said.

“Your wound must have reopened.” She sighed. “Probably because you’re holding onto the balcony railing so tightly.”

Trevelyan had to admit her knuckles _had_ gone white. “Probably should get back to bed.” Now she knew she was bleeding she felt more than a little unsteady.

“Here, let me help you.” Without waiting for a reply Cassandra slung the Inquisitor’s arm around her shoulders and helped her hobble back inside. “I apologise for overtaxing you.”

“It’s fine,” she said, sounding the exact opposite.

When Trevelyan was safely back in bed and hand been potioned up, re-bandaged and clucked over by the healers, Cassandra settled back into the chair.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said, slurring her words as the sedative kicked in.

“I want to,” said Cassandra in a tone that brooked no argument. “Rest now Inquisitor. I’ll be here.”

“Good,” Trevelyan murmured. “Good.”


	9. Chapter 8

The problem with serious injuries, Trevelyan had found, was that they took far too long to heal and this one was no exception. Even with magical help it seemed to take an age to close up. The bout of pneumonia she suffered not long afterwards complicated matters and stripped her of what little strength she’d managed to build back up. Apparently filling your lung with blood was a bad idea and left one susceptible to such things. Trevelyan would try to remember that for next time.

At least the would hadn’t ended up infected. That could have proven fatal.

All of this conspired to keep the Inquisitor in Val Royeaux much longer than originally planned. Cullen and Leliana returned to Skyhold to manage affairs there once it was clear the Inquisitor would survive her wounds. Josephine—whose job could be done relatively easily from the capital—remained by Trevelyan’s side. Privately the Inquisitor thought she’d also been chosen to stay behind because she was the only one of the council she would actually listen to. She was so good at nagging Trevelyan half suspected it was something she’d studied at finishing school.

She supposed that was something she’d know if she’d ever bothered to attend.

It was Josie who made sure Trevelyan did her exercises every day, and who ensured she didn’t overtax herself despite the Inquisitor’s insistence she was fine. Josephine also made sure she kept up with her paperwork, much to the Inquisitor’s disgust.

As much as she wanted to be up and about and doing things, even Trevelyan had to admit that this time she’d been hurt bad. The wound itself healed up in a few weeks but the effects of the injury and the pneumonia and the extended bed rest lingered. She tired easily and found herself unable to complete tasks she’d taken for granted before, which only served to shorten her temper. More than once she snapped at her ambassador unnecessarily, simply because she’d been the bearer of bad news.

Josephine really did deserve a raise.

Of Divine Victoria she saw little after their little… chat on the balcony. What contact they had was in a strictly formal setting which made Trevelyan ache, but was probably for the best. She hoped she’d been clear enough with Cassandra that, although her feelings hadn’t changed, any relationship between them would be impossible. Cassandra might be an unstoppable force but the Chantry was an immovable object. In any case, the Divine spent much of her time sequestered away with members of the College of Clerics and their paths crossed only rarely. When they did end up in the same room their interactions were carefully pitched so as not to draw suspicion.

The rumour of a romantic entanglement between the two of persisted, despite Josephine’s excellent damage limitation on the situation, but no one dared voice it within earshot of either women. The situation had been managed as best as could be reasonably expected.

As the second month of Trevelyan’s convalescence drew to a close her thoughts turned toward returning to Skyhold; she wanted to go home.

When she broached the subject with Josephine, however, the ambassador was… less than supportive.

“You cannot be serious,” she spluttered, making the flame of her candle dance and threaten to go out.

“I’m deadly serious, Josie,” said the Inquisitor wearily. “I hate spending time in the capital at the best of times and these Orlesians are grating on my nerves. I want to go _home_.” She sounded thoroughly miserable, even to her own ears, and Josephine seemed to relent just a little. Trevelyan pressed her advantage. “I don’t care what I have to do, how you need to spin this, I just need to get out of here. Please.”

Josephine sighed. “Alright. I will sort something out, but it might take a few days. In the meantime I would appreciate it if you did not antagonise every noble who crosses your path.”

Trevelyan tried to look innocent, an endeavour which was completely undone by the huge grin on her face. “Who, me?”

She received a _very_ pointed look for that. Apparently Josephine had been spending too much time with Leliana.

“Fine, I’ll behave,” said Trevelyan, sounding more like a scolded six year old than the leader of one of the most powerful political entities in Thedas. “You spoil all my fun.”

“It’s my job,” said Josephine brightly and turned back to her paperwork.

Trevelyan went to find someone to antagonise who _wasn’t_ an Orlesian noble.

It took almost a week to organise, but eventually Josephine had a plan to get the Inquisitor back to Skyhold that wouldn’t do too much damage to the Inquisition’s reputation. There was no way Trevelyan was well enough to travel the whole way on horseback, and she would be unable to defend herself besides, but she did think she could manage to stay upright on her horse until they were out of the city. Then she’d spend the rest of the journey travelling in a wagon, escorted by the finest troops the Inquisition had to offer.

The only downside to this plan of Josie’s was that it required Trevelyan to stand by the Divine’s side in her (thankfully now repaired armour) while she gave a farewell speech. All in the name of proving there wasn’t anything going on between them. Which there wasn’t. She didn’t fully understand Josephine’s motives but she knew better than to argue.

Trevelyan was understandably a little nervous about this part of the plan, since the last time she’d done that she’d gotten shot in the chest.

Still, Josie assured her that security would be triple what it had been last time, and Leliana’s agents would be scattered in amongst the Inquisition escort as well. She decided to trust her colleagues. And if the worst came to the worst, she’d already survived one horrific injury. She could probably withstand another if it came to it.

Somehow, the actual act of standing next to Divine Victoria in full armour wasn’t as terrifying as it had seemed in principle. It was exhausting yes, because Trevelyan was wearing half her body weight in metal when she was far from peak fitness, but the emotional toll was much less than she was expecting.

She expected she’d probably always love Cassandra, but somehow between the crossbow bolt and the talk they’d had afterwards, the prospect of being around her didn’t hurt quite so much.

Trevelyan felt more at peace than she had since Cassandra had been crowned Divine.

The speech went on longer than she would have liked, talking about the friendship between the Inquisition and the Chantry and lauding the Inquisitor personally for her actions in protecting the Divine and so on. It was a good speech, and the Divine clearly meant every word of it for a change, but Trevelyan was more than ready for it all to be over.

Soon enough though she was on horseback, holding tightly onto the reigns in an effort not to fall off. She grit her teeth tightly, hoping it looked more like a smile to onlookers. Maker but everything ached. Every inch of her skin felt slick with sweat from the effort of staying upright. Not long to go now though.

When she’d made it a few miles outside of Val Royeaux their party stopped so she could dismount. Trevelyan climbed into the covered caravan, removing every bit of her armour save the mail as she went.

She was exhausted almost beyond reason. As she settled in for the day she looked back at the towers and spires of the Orlesian capital. The highest point of the Grand Cathedral was still visible from here. Trevelyan wondered what Cassandra was doing right now, before putting her out of her thoughts. They’d come to something of an agreement and hopefully their next meeting would be less fraught. That seemed the best she could hope for right now.

The wagon swayed gently from side to side in a way that was almost soothing. Trevelyan thought she might take advantage of this mode of travelling and settled down for a nap. She was asleep within moments.


	10. Chapter 9

Six months had passed since Trevelyan’s injury and she was more or less recovered. The wound on her chest was little more than another in a long line of scars and while it still tingled sometimes when it was cold it didn’t otherwise bother her. Trevelyan wasn’t quite up to going out on expedition yet but she was back to doing the rest of her duties as Inquisitor and was training hard with her weapons again.

Life was just about back to normal. Or as normal as Trevelyan’s life ever got in the wake of the Conclave.

She’d not been back to Val Royeaux since her injury; she’d told Josephine she’d seen enough of the city to last her a while, and it was true. Her feelings for the Divine hadn’t changed but she felt more at ease with them, and the prospect of interacting with Cassandra—in or out of the Orlesian capital—no longer filled her with dread.

If she’d known that all it would take to sort herself out on that front was a crossbow bolt to the chest she’d have gotten herself shot a long time ago. Not that she mentioned that out loud to anyone.

She felt good, both about herself and the future. Soon enough she’d be fit to go back out on expeditions, helping southern Thedas recover from all the shit it had been through the last fifteen years or so, and then the last vestiges of the restlessness she felt at being confined would slip away.

Trevelyan was at the training dummies one day when her Spymaster approached with an enigmatic look on her face. She sheathed her knives and stretched the ache out of her shoulder; she remembered something similar happening not so long ago and she’d ended up stuck in Val Royeaux for two months while Leliana beat herself up for failing to protect the Inquisitor. She had no intention of repeating that incident and wanted to head off any trouble before it started if at all possible. It wasn’t always, not when Leliana was involved.

“I know that look Leliana,” she said, leaning against the training dummy with a near grimace on her face. “It means I’m going to end up regretting something.”

“I don’t think you will, not this time,” Leliana said, and she sounded amused. “I have a letter for you.”

Trevelyan frowned. Leliana personally delivering mail was… unusual. It did nothing to set her mind at ease. “And the reason you’re delivering it yourself instead of sending a runner is…?”

“It is from Divine Victoria.” _There_ was the smug smile Trevelyan had been expecting. She’d have said something witty about being right, but the bottom seemed to have dropped out of her stomach. In the three and a half years since her coronation the Divine had never sent Trevelyan _any_ personal correspondence. There had been letters sent to the Inquisition, via Josephine and her team of diplomats, but never anything sent directly to her.

The fact that a letter had shown up now, and was being personally delivered by her Spymaster no less, put every one of Trevelyan’s instincts on high alert. “I assume it’s genuine?” she asked, taking the thick parchment envelope Leliana was offering her.

“Oh yes,” she replied. “I checked it out as thoroughly as possible without actually opening it. This came directly from the Divine’s hand, I would stake my life on it.”

Trevelyan started. “You mean you haven’t read it?”

Leliana shook her head. “I suspect the contents to be of a highly personal nature and thought it best to bring it directly to you. I have to admit though, I am intensely curious.”

Trevelyan’s heart was pounding. Personal correspondence from Cassandra, verified and hand delivered, unopened, by Leliana. That wasn’t an every day occurrence and she wondered what had moved the Divine to contact her.

There was only one way to find out.

She ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned the contents of the letter. Trevelyan felt her eyes widen in shock and disbelief. She read the letter again. It still said the same as the first time. She pulled out the enclosed supporting documents, transcripts of some sort of meetings and signed declarations, and read through those too. They confirmed what the letter had said.

Trevelyan couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it though.

“What? What is it?” asked Leliana, sounding curious and a little concerned. Trevelyan wondered what sort of look she had on her face.

“I have to get to Val Royeaux,” said the Inquisitor. “As quickly as possible.”

Leliana didn’t even bother to ask why. “I think Sera and the Iron Bull are in residence at the moment, they could accompany you. I’ll ask Cullen to spare a few soldiers as well.”

Trevelyan nodded. “See to it,” she said and walked off, letter tucked under her arm.

The fastest way to get to Val Royeaux from Skyhold was to ride hard for Jader and charter a ship across the Waking Sea. It still took far too long for Trevelyan’s liking. She was restless and irritable the whole way there, and she wouldn’t tell anyone what was going on. Bull and Sera tried to draw her into a game or two of Wicked Grace but to no avail. Eventually they stopped asking and just let her pace like a caged animal.

When the spires of the Orlesian capital were spotted in the distance it was a relief for everyone on board.

Trevelyan disembarked as soon as she was allowed, leaving her companions to deal with the ship’s captain. She headed to the Grand Cathedral with a determined single-mindedness that caused anyone in her path to dive out of the way as quickly as possible.

The clerics and serving staff in the Chantry seemed to have been warned about her impending arrival because none of them looked at all surprised to see her. She was escorted to Divine Victoria’s office with no trouble at all. Trevelyan, propelled forward by the force of her own momentum, entered without knocking.

Cassandra was sat at her desk looking over some paperwork. She wasn’t wearing her robes of office. Instead she was wearing casual clothes—breeches and a jerkin—that was reminiscent of what she used to wear around Skyhold, only without the breastplate and gauntlets.

The Divine looked up at what she was doing with a smile on her face. She didn’t look remotely surprised to see the Inquisitor in her office. “You made better time than I thought you would.”

Trevelyan pulled the letter she’d received out of a pouch on her belt, throwing it down on the table.

“A thousand years of Chantry doctrine,” said Trevelyan, her voice hoarse with emotion. Now that she was here she could barely get the words out. “You overthrew a thousand years of Chantry doctrine.”

“I did.”

“For me?” Trevelyan asked, nearly choking on the words.

Cassandra shook her head. “For _us_.”


	11. Chapter 10

Trevelyan was floored by the quiet intensity in Cassandra’s face. She’d had days to come to terms with the contents of that letter, of what it meant for the Chantry, for Thedas and most of all for her, but she hadn’t been prepared for this. She just gaped, unable to get any words out.

Cassandra stood and made her way around the desk to stand a few feet in front of the Inquisitor. “In all our discussions you kept coming back to the fact that it was Chantry doctrine keeping us apart; the Chantry forbade it. As head of the Chantry I had the power to change that, so I did. Now there’s nothing stopping us from being together.” Cassandra frowned. “Unless you have changed your mind?”

“No!” Trevelyan protested. “Absolutely not. I’m just a little overwhelmed by what you’ve done.”

The former-Seeker inched closer and her hand fluttered at her side, like she wanted to reach out and caress Trevelyan’s cheek but wasn’t sure whether the gesture would be welcome. “You nearly died for me,” she said softly, eyes burning with emotion. “What I have done is nothing in comparison.”

Trevelyan shook her head but said nothing. She disagreed but didn’t want the moment to escalate into another argument, not when hope was flaring in her chest for the first time in years.

She took Cassandra’s hands in her own. “You went up against the College of Clerics and won. How’d you manage to convince them anyway?”

“I spoke with them all individually and told them that the Maker had given me a great gift; the love of a person willing to step in front of a crossbow bolt for me even when we had no hope of being together. I told them that if they thought I wouldn’t spend my entire reign as Divine fighting for the right to be with that person they were wrong. By the time I called them to the Consensus I had the majority of clerics behind me. After that it wasn’t difficult to get them all to agree.”

“No?”

It was Cassandra’s turn to shake her head. “The vow of chastity has always been the worst kept of all the vows clerics are required to take. Divines and Chantry Sisters alike have always kept secret lovers and borne hidden children. The Chantry has only ever taken them to task for it when there has been irrefutable proof of them breaking their vows.”

“Like Divine Theodosia the Second you mean?” asked Trevelyan with a grin. That always had been one of her favourite stories; giving birth on the steps of the Grand Cathedral sounded both exciting and uncomfortable.

“Exactly like that.” Cassandra sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the Grand Clerics were carrying on affairs anyway. They seemed eager enough to vote to make the vow of chastity optional for all members of the Chantry.” She leaned her hip against the desk, smiling. “Andraste herself was a human woman, with human needs, and so are we. I managed to convince the clerics not to force the Maker’s servants to go against their natural desires in order to serve.”

They were stood so close Trevelyan could feel Cassandra’s breath on her face. She wanted nothing more than to reach out, to touch her, kiss her, but she wouldn’t, not yet. Not until she was sure.

Her gaze settled on Cassandra’s lips. “So, we’re good to go then?”

“I have rededicated myself to the Maker’s service with vows that supersede the ones I took shortly before my coronation. Vows that make it clear that I will accept and honour the Maker’s gift of love.” Her hands settled on Trevelyan’s hips. “Yes, we’re ‘good to go’.”

“Great,” she said, and kissed her.

In the months leading up to to Cassandra ascending the Sunburst Throne Trevelyan had done everything in her power to memorise the way her lips felt, the taste of her. She’d stored up such memories to get her through the rest of her life without them but oh! this was so much better than she remembered. Cassandra’s lips were soft and warm and she swore to the Maker that she would spend the rest of her life kissing this woman if she could.

Kissing Cassandra was like coming alive again.

She pulled away, but only far enough to rest her forehead against Cassandra’s. Their arms were wrapped around each other, bellies flush and they were both breathing heavily. Trevelyan was grinning so hard her cheeks ached.

“Tell me how I managed to survive so long without doing that?”

Cassandra shook her head, and there was a look of wonder on her face. “I can’t. I don’t know how I managed either.” The Divine was breathless and her cheeks were flushed and Trevelyan couldn’t help but feel a little giddy that she was the one who’d done that. She’d forgotten what a wonderful sight it was. Cassandra pulled her in for another kiss.

Drowning. She was drowning in sensation. It was like being presented with a feast after years of starvation; Trevelyan hardly knew where to start. And it seemed like Cassandra felt the same way.

Their kisses were all roaming hands and guttural moans of pleasure. Neither of them could keep still; they would break apart to blaze kisses along each other’s jaws or suck gently on the soft skin of their necks. But they couldn’t keep their lips apart for long and they would come crashing back together, all teeth and tongue and hot breath.

Somehow Trevelyan ended up on top of Cassandra, pressing her back against the desk; her jerkin was undone and Trevelyan’s hand had snuck inside, searching desperately for bare skin. Cassandra didn’t seem to mind since her hands were scrabbling with the buckles on Trevelyan’s armour.

The Inquisitor was just wondering about the wisdom of their first time together in more than three years happening on a desk (and the other part was really quite excited about the prospect of making love to the Divine on her desk in her office in the Grand Cathedral) when there came a knock on the door. Trevelyan wasn’t sure whether the frustrated growl came from Cassandra or her.

The knock sounded again, more insistently this time, and they reluctantly pulled apart. Trevelyan let Cassandra up so she could adjust her clothing. There wasn’t much she could do about her flushed cheeks and mussed hair though. Or the blossoming love bite on her neck. Trevelyan felt a little guilty for that one; she hadn’t meant to suck that hard but Cassandra had made the most wonderful noises in response…

Divine Victoria accepted some paperwork from the person at the door and sent them on their way as fast as possible without being rude. Trevelyan couldn’t stop the grin on her face. In fact, she thought it was entirely possible she’d never stop grinning ever again.

“I apologise for the interruption,” said Cassandra, flicking through the papers she’d been given. She had her business voice on again, which was a shame when things had been getting so interesting but they had time. They could pick up where they’d left off later. Trevelyan was just glad to be with the woman she loved. Suddenly she felt she needed to say it out loud. it had hurt too much to even think before but now… now everything was different. Brand new.

“Cassandra,” Trevelyan said softly.

“Yes?” came the reply. Cassandra hadn’t even looked up from the papers.

“I love you.”

_That_ got her attention. She looked up, a smile slowly spreading across her face. The paperwork was put to one side and she sashayed over to Trevelyan, swinging her hips in a manner that was far too seductive for the head of the Chantry. Trevelyan swallowed.

“I love you too,” she said, directly meeting the Inquisitor’s gaze. They shared another kiss, soft and gentle this time. When they pulled apart they both sighed with pleasure. “It won’t be easy you know.”

“I know,” said Trevelyan. “You’re still the Divine and I’m still the Inquisitor. That hasn’t changed.”

“We may have to go long periods without seeing each other as our work pulls us apart.” She made a frustrated noise deep in her throat. “And we will have to carefully manage the relationship between the Inquisition and the Chantry; people will be watching for any sign that our relationship has given the Inquisition any unfair political advantage–”

Trevelyan cut her off with a quick kiss. “We’ll be fine. No matter what they throw at us we’ll get through it because we’ll have each other. You’re worth whatever they try to put us through.”

Cassandra smiled and it lit up every corner of Trevelyan’s heart. “I told you long ago that my becoming Divine wasn’t the end for us and I was right.”

“You were,” said Trevelyan with a smile. “I should have trusted you were right, you usually are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go now. Did you really think I'd leave them without a happy ending?


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this on Friday but Life happened.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, giving kudos and commenting and don't worry, this isn't the end of the story for these two.

_One year later._

Skyhold was enjoying one of the few days a year the weather could truly be described as beautiful. The sun was high in the high, there wasn’t a cloud in sight and it was pleasantly warm. For once in her life Trevelyan felt truly blissful.

Of course the company didn’t hurt either; Varric—Viscount Tethras—was visiting, as was Dorian, now Magister Pavus. Trevelyan could have sworn she’d assembled a ragtag band of misfits to try and save the world with and yet somehow all her friends had ended up in high places. (Literally, in Sera’s case, since she’d taken up residence on top of the tavern to throw assorted projectiles at their Very Important Guests and no one was quite sure how to get her down. The cackling was getting unnerving.) Of all her friends though, no one had ended up in a higher position most important visitor, Divine Victoria herself.

They hadn’t seen all that much of each other since the official rekindling of their relationship a year ago, but they’d kept in regular contact through letters. Their correspondence had become increasingly erotic, so much so that Leliana had stopped reading Trevelyan’s messages entirely. Still, she seemed insufferably smug that there _were_ erotic letters being passed between the two woman at all and smirked incessantly whenever she delivered Trevelyan’s mail, which she seemed to do at every opportunity these days. The Inquisitor had managed to get to Val Royeaux a few times on business (and even once or twice for purely pleasurable reasons) but this was the first time Cassandra had managed to find the time to return to Skyhold.

Having most of her friends and the woman she loved all under one roof again made Trevelyan giddy with happiness. Even if Cassandra had had to be talked out of taking her old quarters above the forge. Josephine had just about exploded when she’d heard that the Divine wanted to sleep in a bed roll on the floor instead of taking a proper set of quarters as was her due. The incident almost escalated into a full on feud until Trevelyan hit upon a suitable compromise; Cassandra would stay with the Inquisitor in _her_ quarters.

One or two of Divine Victoria’s aides objected to this plan on grounds of “propriety” but since Cassandra had a sword in her hand at the time they didn’t object for long.

So, Cassandra had been installed in Trevelyan’s room for the duration and the tavern played host to a nightly Inquisition reunion. It was just like the good old days, only without the constant threat of attack by a would-be god.

Trevelyan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. She wanted to keep this feeling forever.

She found Cassandra reading in the garden one afternoon. The scent of healing herbs floated on the warm breeze and Trevelyan couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you busy?” Trevelyan asked.

Cassandra looked up at her with a smile. “Not too busy to spend time with you, my love.”

Trevelyan’s heart sang. She would never quite get used to that; she’d thought she’d never hear those words in that tone of voice ever again and she swore she would never take them for granted. “Can I borrow you for a bit? I’d like to take you on an excursion.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” said Trevelyan with a secretive smile. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

“With my life.”

Hand in hand they headed to the stables, where Trevelyan saddled up her favourite mount. With an indulgent grin Trevelyan helped Cassandra settle behind her on the horse with her arms wrapped around the Inquisitor’s waist. They set off out of the keep, the guards smiling as they passed.

Trevelyan lead them to a small grove just outside of Skyhold, one which was familiar to both of them. She hoped the person she’d trusted to do the set up for this little surprise had done their job properly.

“What’s this?” Cassandra asked as Trevelyan helped her dismount. She didn’t really need the help but it made Trevelyan feel like she was a proper suitor for Cassandra. There had been no objections so far.

Trevelyan smiled. “It’s a picnic, Cassandra. You know that thing where you take food outside to eat it on a blanket? I’m told they’re considered quite romantic.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “I know what a picnic is, I was simply wondering why you have gone to all this effort.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re heading back to Val Royeaux in a few days and I just wanted to do something special before you went. Wine?”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Trevelyan, clearly suspicious about something, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she sat down on the blanket and helped herself to a plate of blueberry pastries. Trevelyan poured the wine and they settled into a comfortable conversation. A book of Cassandra’s favourite poetry had been packed amongst the food and the two women took it in turns to read out loud to each other, interspersed with kisses given as a reward for a particularly good reading. Or just because they felt like it.

The afternoon slipped away to a beautiful sunset, all reds and golds against the crisp blue of the sky. They watched it together, and Cassandra laid her head on Trevelyan’s shoulder and sighed.

“Happy?” she asked.

“Immeasurably so,” Cassandra replied. “Part of me wishes we could stay like this, that I didn’t have to go back to the Grand Cathedral and be Divine Victoria again.”

Trevelyan hummed in agreement. “At least you don’t have to wear the robes all the time any more. That set of armour Vivienne had designed for you is pretty nice.”

“And I feel much more comfortable in it. The enchantments Dagna added should mean I am practically impervious to damage so no one has to put themselves in harm’s way for me,” she said with a pointed glare.

Instinctively Trevelyan rubbed at the spot on her chest where the crossbow bolt had hit her. “No more foolishly throwing myself in front of you, got it.” Cassandra hummed her satisfaction and settled back onto her shoulder. “Seriously though, it’s nice to dream about things being like this always, but I kind of like what we have. I wouldn’t mind making it a more permanent arrangement.”

Cassandra sat up, watching Trevelyan closely. The suspicion was back in her eyes. “What are you up to?”

“I thought I’d lost you once, to the Chantry, to duty, and it nearly killed me. I never want to go through that again.” She reached into her pocket and drew out a small wooden box, intricately carved and painted to look like a dragon. Cassandra gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “I want this, what we have together, to last for the rest of our lives.” She opened the box to reveal a silver ring with a single bright red ruby set deep into the band. “Assuming we can find someone to perform the ceremony, I would very much like to be your wife. Cassandra Pentaghast, will you marry me?”

Cassandra didn’t answer at first, she just stared at the Inquisitor with a smile playing about her lips and her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Changing a thousand years Chantry doctrine so we could be together wasn’t enough for you?” There was a playful lilt to her voice, so Trevelyan wasn’t offended.

She grinned. “I can’t deny that was _very_ romantic, but no. I want to take vows in front of the Maker that I will love you until the day I die. I never thought I’d want to get married but I want to marry you. So, what do you say? Marry me?”

“Assuming we can find someone to perform the ceremony, I will.” Cassandra smiled and Trevelyan thought she’d never seen anyone or anything as beautiful before in her life.

“Yay,” she managed weakly, unable to get anything else out past the bubble of joy in her chest. She fumbled with the ring, almost dropping it before she could get it on Cassandra’s finger but she finally managed it. It was a perfect fit.

“The ring _is_ lovely,” said Cassandra sounding completely thrilled.

“I had Dagna make it for me. She put some sort of protection charm on it but to be honest I wasn’t listening to her when she gave me the details. I was too busy being nervous about the whole proposing thing.”

Cassandra smiled softly and leaned in for a kiss. “I thought you did well. It was a very romantic proposal.”

“Good,” she said, pulling Cassandra closer. “I know things are never going to be easy for us, and chances are we’ll never have a traditional marriage, but we’ll have each other and that’s what matters. I want this to be a promise that there will be no more endings between us, only beginnings.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “Only ever beginnings.”


End file.
